In Charge
by dee768nj
Summary: A series of shorts that could be from the Taking Charge universe, although not part of that story. Each chapter stands alone, and not necessarily in chronological order. Mostly funny and romantic, occasionally touching, and one real tear-jerker. Babe.
1. Green Day

_Response to Tricia's green challenge on perfectlyplum, both prompts. 1. "I'm not eating (or drinking) THAT— it's green." -OR- 2. "You want to turn WHAT green?" _

_Disclaimer: Not mine, not making any money. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich.  
_

_Could be from the TC universe._

**Green Day, a St. Patty's Day Story  
**

By Dee

"I'm not drinking THAT – it's green," Lula exclaimed, taking the top off her cup and peering inside.

I set the cardboard holder from McDonald's on Connie's desk. "Lula, it's a shamrock shake. They only come once a year, and it's important to drink your fill before they're gone."

"Yeah," Connie put in, grabbing a cup. "They're the best milkshake ever. They're the best thing about St. Patty's Day, well besides the green beer. We'll have to go out after work for that."

"I've never had green beer," I told the girls.

"WHAT?!" Lula shrieked. "Are you kiddin' me?! You went to college! Everyone knows that's what college kids do on St. Patty's Day. Drink lots of green beer."

"Well, I could never drink it. The color of it was just too… green."

"See," Lula said. "That's why I'm not drinking this here shamrock shake."

"Just try it, Lula," I said. "It's really yummy, a delicious milkshake with just a hint of mint. I guarantee you'll love it."

Lula watched me as I sucked on my straw, making little nummy sounds as I tasted the shake.

"Tell ya what, white girl. I'll try a shamrock shake if you promise to come out with us after work and try some green beer."

"Okay, deal."

Lula sucked on the straw, and I could see the light enter her eyes as the delicious concoction hit her mouth.

"Oh, holy Jesus, I think I done died and went to heaven!" she exclaimed. "That is GOOD!"

"See, what'd I tell you."

We all drank, and a few moments later I heard Lula's straw suck air. She'd finished the whole thing in record time. She must have the suction of a Hoover, I thought, sucking hard at my straw trying to get more of the thick shake.

"So," Lula said, wiping off her mouth with the back of her hand. "Meet us back here at five o'clock and we'll go on over to Shorty's for your introduction to the pleasures of green beer."

_oOo_

_Later_

"You were so right, Lula," I said, waving my arms for emphasis. We were sitting at the bar at Shorty's and I was on my third green beer, feeling just fine. "This green beer is great stuff. But I think it's time to hit the head. I'm kinda sloshing here."

"Oh, Steph, there's one thing we didn't mention," Connie said. "You probably don't wanna look when you're finished."

"What? Whadda ya mean?"

"Take my word for it. Just reach behind you and flush. Don't look."

Of course I had to look. Omigod! Green pee!

I couldn't stop giggling as I walked back out to rejoin the girls. Jeez, maybe I oughta stop drinking if a little green pee was making me laugh uncontrollably.

"You looked, didn't you," Connie stated as I fell laughing onto my bar stool.

I was laughing so hard that Connie and Lula began laughing too. Our giggling fits were finally beginning to subside when they both stilled. I felt a hot body skimming my back and a warm arm snaked around my waist.

Steamy breath caressed my ear. "What's so funny, Babe?"

"Oh, hey Ranger." I turned to look at him, leaning my head away a little to focus. "It's a green day today. Ha, Green Day, get it? Don't wanna be an American idiot," I sang tunelessly.

"Babe," he said.

I babbled on. "We had green shakes and green beer, and I just…" I stopped. I might be a little tipsy, but I wasn't so drunk I'd discuss bodily functions with the hottest man in New Jersey.

"Babe, I think it's closing time for you. Need a ride home?"

"Closing time," I sang, "you don't have to go home but you can't… stay… here…"

Ranger's arm was still around me and he drew me off the bar stool, supporting me as I swayed. Wow, I guess that third beer was the killer.

"Ladies," he said to Connie and Lula, and ushered me out the door and toward his Turbo, parked in a primo spot right by the door. Of course.

I snuggled into the leather seat of the Porsche, still singing softly under my breath. "I know who I want to take me home. I know who I want to take me home. I know who I want to take me home, take me ho—oh—ome."

Ranger pulled into his parking spot and as we exited the car he grabbed a bag from the backseat.

"Wuz that?" I asked him. "Did you bring me something to eat? Cuz all that green beer made me hungry."

"Green food, Babe. Salad."

"Well, I'm starved." My stomach growled to confirm my statement. "I could eat some green food. To tide me over while I'm waiting for a pizza to be delivered."

"Babe."

He half carried me to the elevator, and kept his arm around me as I wobbled woozily. When we reached the apartment he began dividing the salad into two bowls as I called Pino's and ordered a large pesto pizza in deference to the green theme of the day. Plus I knew Ranger would like it, as opposed to my usual greasy pepperoni, which he refused to touch.

By the time we polished off the salad the pizza was there and I grabbed a slice.

"Mmmm," I moaned as the first delicious bite hit my palate. "Pino's makes the best pizza, even when it's green."

Ranger's eyes were very dark as he watched me chew and swallow. As I brought the slice to my lips for another bite a glop of pesto sauce slid off and landed on my chest, sliding down toward my cleavage.

"Oops," I giggled, reaching for a napkin, but Ranger was too quick for me. Before I knew what was happening I was reclined across his lap, his arm supporting my shoulders and his tongue between my breasts licking up the pesto.

Omigod! Tingles ran up and down my whole body, and my panties were instantly soaked.

"Babe," Ranger said, unbuttoning my blouse. "You'd better stop eating. I think I'm going to need the rest of that pesto sauce."

"For what?"

"Edible St. Patrick's Day decorations. I'm going to paint you green. All over."

"You want to turn WHAT green?"

"You, Babe. Do you think you can take it?"

"I can take anything you can dish out, Soldier."

His eyes dark, he swept me up into his arms, grabbed the pizza box, and headed for the bedroom.

Holy shamrocks!

_The end._


	2. The Big Guns & Musical Memories

_Here's a two-fer, two really short challenge responses from the world of Taking Charge._

_oOo_

**1. The Big Guns**

_Response to Cat's Loaded Challenge, prompt 1: "I think we just broke the record for the number of gun fights in one week."_

_WARNING: Kind of smutty, definitely adult situations & lots of innuendo. A brief snippet from the TC universe, fitting in somewhere around chapters 25-30._

_oOo_

I woke up snuggled against a hot hard body, arms like bands of steel wrapped around me, my face buried in a delicious-smelling neck, loose silky hair tickling my nose. I had never been so happy in my life. Ranger finally decided his lifestyle might lend itself to a relationship, and we were together. We'd spent almost the entire past week in bed, and still couldn't get enough of each other.

"Mmmm," I murmured, pressing even closer, "is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy I'm here?"

Considering we were both naked, I already knew the answer to that one.

"You might consider it a one-gun salute, Babe," he answered.

"It certainly is locked and loaded," I said, rotating against him, making him moan slightly.

"Better be careful, Babe, or my gun might go off."

"Oooh, are you going to shoot me?"

"It's a definite possibility."

"But how do I know you aren't shooting blanks?" I gave him my evil grin.

"Loaded with hydroshocks and fully cocked, ready to fire, Babe."

I swung my top leg across his body, bringing us into even closer contact. "You'd better watch out then, Soldier, because I'm gunning for you."

"Guess it's time to break out the heavy artillery." He cupped a hand at the back of my neck and brought my mouth up to his, capturing my lips and slipping his tongue into my mouth.

Lightning shot through my body, and I pulled away, gasping, "So what make you think you're the top gun around here?"

"Babe," he said, rolling me underneath him, "my gun's bigger than your gun."

I sucked on his neck, making him groan and press against me. "I think we need to have another gunfight so you can prove it to me," I moaned.

Poised at my entrance he murmured in my ear, "Okay, Babe, now I'm gonna bring out the big guns."

"I thought you already had."

As he slid into me I was thinking, we just broke the record for the number of gun fights in one week.

_End of part 1._

_oOo_

**2. Musical Memories**

_Response to Dasame's Less Traveled challenge, prompt 1: Place your favorite Plum character in any Disney park; they have to go __on or speak about at least one ride. (The second prompt for this week inspired me to write "The Road," posted here in three chapters.) _

_A little tidbit from shortly after TC ended (but before the epilogue).  
_

_oOo_

"Hmmm-hmm, hmmm, hmmm, hmmm-hmm, hmmm."

Ranger's humming again, just barely, under his breath. I can't figure out what he's humming, and I don't want him to get pissed off at me for pointing it out, so I just listen more carefully.

"Hmmm-hmm, hmmm, hmmm, hmmm-hmm, hmmm."

He's been doing this for over a week now, and I don't think he even knows he's doing it, Mr. Always-Be-Aware-of-Your-Surroundings. He may be aware of his surroundings, but I don't think he's aware of what he's doing right now.

"Hmmm-hmm, hmmm, hmmm, hmmm-hmm, hmmm."

Boy, it sounds really familiar, and yet I think he's a little off. I've never really heard him sing, so I don't even know if he can carry a tune. I try to listen without him knowing it.

"Hmm-hmm, hmmm, hmmm, hmmm, hmmm, hmmm."

"Omigod, it's been three weeks since we took Julie to Disney World and you're still humming the Small World song!"

"Fuckin' song. Can't get it out of my head. Here, Babe, take my gun and shoot me."

_The end._


	3. In the Emergency Room

_Jan's Caring Challenge, both prompts: 1. If you want the same thing I do, then we're in the wrong place. 2. You're here, that's all that matters._

_You might have to read this one twice. Could be part of the Taking Charge universe._

_Disclaimer: Not mine, making no money._

_oOo_

**In the Emergency Room**

"Carlos." Stephanie's voice was filled with tears.

"Babe."

Ranger wrapped an arm around her very gently, drawing her close against one side and kissing her tenderly on the temple.

"I just got the message. I must have been in a dead spot. No cell phone service."

"You're here now. That's all that matters."

Stephanie turned her face to him, her lips seeking and then finding his, drawing comfort from his strength. After a moment they pulled apart, eyes locked. A chill ran up Stephanie's spine at his dark depths.

"What's the damage?"

"Left wrist, right leg. Both probably broken."

"Did they take x-rays yet?"

"Yeah. Almost an hour ago. The doctor should back any minute."

"Does it hurt?"

"Not bad. They gave me something for the pain."

They kissed again. Their mouths both opened automatically, tongues probing, seeking reassurance. But the current between them was powerful, as always, and the solace morphed to raging desire in an instant.

"If you want the same thing I do, then we're in the wrong place."

"As soon as I can get out of here, we'll go to the right place."

"But will we be able to…?"

"We'll manage, believe me."

They kissed again with passion and fire, both moaning a little as their lips separated.

"How did it happen?"

"I was walking up a skip's front walk when the whole house blew. He must have been cooking up a batch and gotten careless. Blasted me clear across the street."

Stephanie tried to smile at him, but her eyes were starting to fill up again. She turned her mind to jelly doughnuts and satiny-soft sheets and it didn't take long for the tears to drain away.

"If both your arm and leg are broken, you won't be able to use crutches. You're going to be in a wheelchair for a few weeks."

"I'm going to go crazy being stuck in the apartment and the office for weeks."

Stephanie snuggled her head into the crook of his neck, her lips touching his throat.

"Ella will take care of you."

"I'd rather have you take care of me."

"You've got me. You're stuck with me forever."

"Good."

Still snuggled together, they reluctantly parted when the doctor came bustling into the curtained area holding a clipboard in one hand and a sheaf of x-rays in the other.

"Ah, who's this?" the doctor asked with a smile.

Ranger and Stephanie spoke simultaneously.

"My husband."

"My wife."

They grinned at each other. It was still very new, and they both loved to say those words.

The doctor slapped the x-rays up onto the light board on the wall and flipped the switch. As the fluorescent light flickered to life Stephanie turned her head and leaned closer to see.

"It's as we suspected," the doctor said, pointing to the films with a pen. "Fracture of the left radius just above the wrist, and the right fibula, right here, about six inches above the ankle." His pen waved back and forth over the x-rays.

"Both are clean breaks," the doctor continued, "so I'll send in the PA to take you for casts. You'll need to keep the casts dry and see your own orthopedist in a week to check on the injuries. The PA will also arrange a wheelchair. You won't be able to walk or use crutches for three or four weeks." The doctor bustled out through the half-open curtain.

"Thank you, doctor."

Silence.

"Are you pouting?"

"No, just thinking."

"About…?"

"How soon we can get back home and into bed."

Wolf grin, responded to in kind.

They rested together on the gurney for several minutes until the PA came in with a wheelchair.

"Time to go for casts," he said cheerfully, then did a double-take. "Hey, Steph, haven't seen you in ages. Heard you got married."

"Hey, Ralph, yup, I got married. This is my husband, Carlos Manoso."

Ralph shook Ranger's hand. "Glad to meet you. And congratulations. You're a lucky bastard. Guys all over the Burg have been trying to catch Steph for years."

Ranger nodded minutely. "Pleased to meet you."

"Okay," Ralph said, "let's get you into the wheelchair and down to the casting area. Then you guys can get out of here."

Ralph took Ranger's arm and attempted to help him off the bed, but Ranger pulled away. "I can do it myself."

"Carlos, you're going to be laid up for weeks. You're going to have to learn to accept some help."

"Babe."

_The End_


	4. Such a Failure

_Annie & Dove's Embarrassing Challenge—Prompt: "Tell me about the most embarrassing thing you have ever done."_

_Steph learns something about her mother. __Could be from the TC universe... Or maybe not...  
_

_oOo_

**Such a Failure**

We were sitting around the table finishing dinner and Grandma said, "Okay, everyone, let's go around the table. Tell me about the most embarrassing thing you've ever done."

I started to get up. "Well, we've really gotta get going. You know, places to see, people to do…"

Ranger grabbed my wrist. "Babe, wait. Don't you want dessert?"

I gave him a look, hoping his ESP was working, because I was sending the message, "Are you crazy, Soldier? This is going to be horrendous. Even dessert isn't worth going through this."

Grandma piped up, "Frank, why don't you start?"

My dad kept his eyes fixed firmly on his plate and said, "Helen, where's dessert?"

"Stephanie, could you please come help me in the kitchen?" Mom said, getting up and grabbing her plate and my dad's.

I stacked up the rest of the plates and carried them through the swinging door to the kitchen. Mom was pulling a chocolate cake down from its place of honor on top of the refrigerator, so I popped back into the dining room to grab the platter of roast beef and bowl of potatoes.

Carrying them through the swinging door into the kitchen I was surprised to see my mom sitting at the kitchen table, her head in her hands.

"Mom, what's wrong?"

Mom looked up at me and I was shocked to see tears in her eyes. I don't think I could remember the last time I saw my mom cry. Maybe at Grandpa Mazur's funeral, and that was years ago.

"Oh, Stephanie, I know your grandmother is just trying to make conversation, but she made me think about my most embarrassing moment, and I'm sure your father is remembering it, too. I'm just so humiliated. I don't think I can go back out there."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Scarlet stained her cheeks and Mom put her head back down, resting her forehead on her crossed arms on the table. "Even after all these years it makes my heart pound and my face burn."

Now I was really curious. "You know, Mom, they say it helps to talk about things that bother us. Sometimes sharing a problem with another person can make it seem so much smaller, much less important. If you want to tell me, I promise I won't tell anyone."

"Well," she mumbled into her arms, "I've never told this to a single soul. I guess I couldn't really feel any worse, so maybe it'll help to share. As long as you really won't tell anyone. Especially not your grandmother."

"Cross my heart, Mom."

"Well, you know your father and I have been married for thirty-six years now. It was right after we got back from our honeymoon. We spent three days in the Poconos and stayed at one of those special hotels. We had a suite with its own heart-shaped hot tub right in the room."

She lifted her head up and rested her chin on her clasped hands. Gazing off into the distance she looked like her mind was a million miles away. "It was so beautiful and romantic. Your father was quite a catch, so handsome, just out of the army, with a good job at the post office. And we were really in love."

"Sounds wonderful."

"Oh, it was, just lovely. And then we came home to our first apartment. I'd spent weeks getting things all ready for us to move in. I had the cutest curtains in the kitchen, white ruffles with little blue and white ducks printed along the edge, and matching canisters that I got for a shower gift. It was really adorable. I thought we were going to have the perfect life together."

I nodded encouragement for her to continue.

"We got back late on a Tuesday night and things couldn't have been any more perfect. Your dad was new at the post office and only had the two days off, so he had to go to work on Wednesday. I wanted to cook him a perfect dinner for our first evening in our own home, so I looked through my new cookbook and planned a menu I thought he'd love. Pot roast with potatoes and carrots, and a chocolate cake for dessert."

She looked at the chocolate cake on the table in front of her.

"I swear, I followed the directions from the cookbook exactly, but the pot roast was awful. It was dry and tough, and the potatoes disintegrated, but the carrots were still half raw. To this day I don't know how it could have turned out so terribly."

Tears began to pool along her lower lids. "Your father couldn't have been sweeter. He ate it anyway, chewing and chewing and chewing on the pot roast, scooping up those mushy potatoes with a spoon and crunching the carrots."

A tear overflowed, trickling down her cheek, and she dashed it away with the side of her hand. "I thought, well at least I know how to make a chocolate cake. I'd made lots of them at home with your grandma and grandpa, and everyone in the family agreed my chocolate cake was the best."

Her cheeks began to turn pink again. "So I brought out the cake, very proud of myself because I knew it would be good. I cut us nice big pieces and told your dad this was my special recipe."

By this time her cheeks were burning crimson and the tears were flowing freely down her face. "Your father took one bite and grabbed his napkin and… and… spit it out! I felt like such a failure," she wailed, putting her head back down into her arms, sobs wracking her whole body.

"Mom, Mom, it's okay, it was a long time ago." I patted her shoulder comfortingly. "And messing up a meal is nothing to be ashamed of. That's why I never cook, because everything I make comes out terrible. Everybody makes mistakes sometimes."

"It was salt," she sobbed. "And it wasn't my fault! One of my friends helped your grandmother deliver all the wedding gifts to the apartment while we were away and she filled the sugar canister with salt."

"Well, then it's nothing to be embarrassed about, Mom. It really wasn't your fault. And I agree with everyone else, your chocolate cake is the best."

"Really?" she asked, lifting up her head and pulling a tissue from the pocket of her apron to wipe her eyes.

"Absolutely. I love your chocolate cake." I stood up and went to the cupboard for the dessert plates. "And now we'd better get this cake out to the dining room before Dad sends a search party for us."

She stood up, blew her nose and then smiled weakly at me.

"You know, Stephanie, you were right. I've never, ever told anyone about that cake in thirty-six years, but I feel so much better now. I guess it helps to talk about things that are bothering you."

"Absolutely," I told her.

"But you know," she confided, "ever since that day I always taste everything I cook before I serve it."

_The end._


	5. Best Friends

_A sad little moment in the TC world. Not a challenge response, but inspired by something I went through myself a couple months ago.  
_

_WARNING: Angst and character death. I hesitate to say minor character, but it's not R/S/J or a MM._

_Disclaimer: Not my characters, not making any money._

**Best Friends**

I dialed my phone, waiting to hear the familiar voice answer. "Hey, Joe, how's he doing?"

"Not so hot, Cupcake. Keisha, Dr. Tomlinson, said last week that if these pills don't work there's nothing more they can do. And they're not working."

There was a very long pause, and when Joe spoke again his voice was thick and higher than normal. Tears filled my eyes, even as I knew they were filling his.

"It's his time. We have an appointment at two."

"I'm coming, Joe. Wait for me."

I grabbed my bag and ran down the stairs to the garage, in too much of a hurry to wait for the elevator.

Twenty minutes later I was on Slater Street, pulling up in front of Joe's modest row home. I studied it, trying to take my mind off what was coming. It was painted a fresh, creamy beige, with new, navy-blue shutters on the windows, the front door enameled to match. Filmy white sheers curtained all the windows, similar to the ones that were there when Joe's Aunt Rose passed away and left him the house.

As I slid out of my Escalade, the front door of the house swung open and I braced myself, waiting for Bob to come racing out and jump on me, licking and wagging his tail, almost knocking me over like always. But all I saw was Joe, gesturing me to come inside.

"Hey, Cupcake. Come on in for a minute."

I walked through the door, once like home to me, into a hallway papered with unfamiliar muted vines and butterflies in rose and tan.

"This way," Joe said, and I followed him into the living room, noticing the off-white walls and new ivory-and-rose formal sofa and loveseat protected with clear plastic slipcovers. Even the carpet was new, a pale tan berber that contrasted with the dark mahogany side tables.

"The house looks great," I said, my eyes searching and then finding what they sought in the corner of the room.

Lying on a large plaid-covered cushion, Bob lifted his head to greet me with big brown eyes. His tail gave a half wag and then his head settled back down between his front paws.

My heart ached as I dropped to my knees in front of him, rubbing his ears the way he liked and stroking the length of his back, his long, silky orange hair flowing with my hand and then fluttering back down to the sides. I scratched his head and told him, "Good boy, Bob."

I heard a muffled sound behind me and turned. Joe's shaking shoulders told me what I couldn't see because of the hands covering his eyes.

I got up and went to him, my arms automatically encircling his shoulders and pulling his head down into the crook of my neck. "I'm sorry, Joe. I can't imagine how hard this must be for you."

Tears overflowed my eyes as he wrapped his arms around my waist and strained to stifle his sobs.

After a few moments I asked, "Where's Becky this afternoon?"

Joe sniffed hard and lifted his head from my shoulder. "She's over at King's Garden with Shelley. It's Storybook Day and the kids are dressing up and putting on a program for the parents." He backed away from me and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "I took the afternoon off to go along, but… well, Bob needs me."

"You're a good dad, Joe. I always knew you would be."

The tears brimmed in his eyes again, and another sob tried to escape as he wrenched out, "I don't think I can do this. It's just too hard."

"Do you want me to take him?" I offered. "He was mine first, before he was yours."

"I couldn't ask you to do that, Cupcake." But the hope that entered his eyes told me otherwise.

"It's okay, Joe. Why don't you help me get him into my car and then you can go on over to the nursery school and be with Becky and Shelley. They need you this afternoon more than Bob and I do."

"Are you really sure, Steph?" Joe was never one to shirk his duty or pawn it off on someone else.

"I'm positive, Joe." I was firm. "Do you still have his old blanket that he used to sleep on?"

"Yeah, it's in the corner of the kitchen where he likes to lay. I'll get it."

I took the faded and torn old quilt out through the front door and spread it on the backseat of the Escalade, holding the door open as Joe carried Bob out and eased him down onto it. Joe's tears were dripping onto Bob's gray-grizzled muzzle leaving dark stains as Joe hugged him and said goodbye.

As I closed Bob in and reached for the driver's door, Joe took my arm and turned me to face him. "Really, Steph, are you sure you want to do this?"

I took his face in my hands and looked deep into those expressive whiskey-colored eyes. "You and Bob are two of my oldest and best friends. It's the least I can do for you."

As I drove away I glanced in the rearview mirror to see Joe standing in the street behind us, shoulders slumped, head down, hands in his pockets.

At the vet's I helped Bob out of the backseat, got his blanket, and coaxed him to limp along with me.

"Hey, Steph, I see you're with Bob today," said Bernice Nierowski, the veterinary assistant, a Burg product a couple of years behind me in school. Her scrubs, a bold and bright print of smiling dogs and cats, seemed to mock the solemnity of the occasion.

"Hi, Bernice."

"Bring him right in here," she said, leading me into a private room at the end of a long hall. "You can put his quilt down on the floor, and Dr. Tomlinson will be here in just a few minutes. Joe called and pre-paid by credit card, so the bill is all taken care of."

I folded Bob's blanket into quarters and placed it on the floor and he immediately settled on it with a groan, head down and eyes closing. Even a sharp yapping coming from down the hall didn't cause him to stir.

"Just sign right here," Bernice said, placing a form on the counter beside me, "and here."

Permission for euthanasia. The title on the page cut me like a knife, hitting home a lot harder than the usual euphemisms.

As Bernice took the forms and left the room, I clamped a hand over my mouth to throttle the sobs that were fighting to escape. I grabbed a handful of tissues from the box on the counter and sat down on the floor next to Bob, rubbing and stroking, not wanting him to sense my grief and be upset by it.

In a few minutes the vet came into the room, introducing herself as Dr. Keisha Tomlinson and telling me what a nice dog Bob was. She'd been caring for him for the past ten years, ever since he'd gone to live with Joe.

I held Bob in my arms and told him what a good boy he was and how much I loved him as Keisha gave him the injection in his leg. It was over in a brief moment and Keisha and Bernice were leaving the room, telling me to take as long as I needed.

I continued to hold Bob, thinking back to the many times he'd greeted me at Joe's door, too excited to stay earthbound, jumping up and almost knocking me over. I remembered the sofa cushions he ate, and my thong, and Joe's shoes. I smiled through my tears as I remembered that you never knew what you'd find in Bob's poop. He had an appetite for life.

He loved to run, galloping down the street to terrorize the squirrels and birds of Joe's neighborhood. Poor Bob hadn't been able to run in a few years, suffering from the hip problems common in big dogs.

Most of all I remembered his joy at going to the park, racing through the verdant grass under a cloudless azure sky, smelling the odor of freedom. That, I thought, is where he is now, running free again.

My eyes were blind with tears and bright sunshine as I walked out the door into the hot Trenton afternoon. Blinking and squinting, I turned toward my car, groping in my bag for sunglasses. As I slipped them on I saw the figure dressed all in black standing beside my SUV. The scent of Bulgari surrounded me like a comforter and the deep voice was a balm to my grief as strong arms wrapped around me.

"Babe."

_In memory of Mickey, no longer the Dalmatian from Hell, now racing through verdant grass under the cloudless azure sky of Dalmatian Heaven._


End file.
